


Not Such a Risk

by aw_writing_no



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Sub!Bucky, dom!Clint, sub!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aw_writing_no/pseuds/aw_writing_no
Summary: "Buck, I gotta ask -- are you here of your own free will, or did Clint kidnap you and force you to watch Dog Cops?” Steve smirked as he glanced from Bucky to Clint.“Hey!” Clint objected just as Bucky said, “Bit of column A, bit of column B.”Clint huffed indignantly. “As I remember it, I was minding my own business when you barged in here and started questioning my eating habits.”***Or, Clint has been acting as Steve's and Bucky's dom separately for weeks now, but the three of them have never done a scene together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the Winterhawk Mini Bang, although my muse stopped listening to reason and this story became Bucky/Clint/Steve. This scene will be part of my longer WIP "Haunted Men"-- I started writing it before it got way too long and I realized I needed to tone it the fuck down to get everything submitted in time!
> 
> Art by the amazing impiarum (xbittenx.tumblr.com)!

It was the team’s first morning off in weeks. No press conferences, no strategy meetings, no Latverian super villains attempting to take over Manhattan. Clint stretched out across his couch, wearing only a pair of faded grey sweatpants that hung low off of his hips, a full pot of coffee with a purple crazy straw on the table beside him. He flipped through the recorded shows on his DVR until he found the season premiere of Dog Cops. He turned on the subtitles and nestled into the cushions with the coffee in his lap.

Three episodes and three quarters of a pot of coffee later, a blue flashing light announced that someone was at Clint’s door.

“Come in!”

Clint paused the show as Bucky entered the apartment, wearing one of Steve’s SHIELD t-shirts. He rubbed the curve of his right bicep with his metal hand, his eyes glancing around the apartment before settling on Clint. If Clint’s lack of clothing bothered Bucky he didn’t show it; in fact a small smile played across his face as Clint waved at him.

Bucky turned to look at the TV, making it so that Clint couldn’t read his lips as he spoke.

“I don’t have my ears in. Let me go grab them,” Clint said.

Bucky angled his face towards Clint and shook his head. _It’s okay_ , he mouthed as he signed clumsily. _I wanted to see if you had eaten breakfast yet._

“You’re learning sign!” Clint said with a wide grin.

 _Steve and I have been practicing._ Warmth flooded through Clint’s chest as he watched Bucky bite his lip in concentration. The only downside to Bucky and Steve learning to sign was that Natasha would definitely be mad -- It meant she and Clint would have to find a new way to gossip about the team while everyone was around.

_Breakfast?_

Clint held up the coffee pot and said, “Only if this counts.”

 _Jesus, how have you not died of malnutrition?_ Bucky fingerspelled the last word slowly. Clint laughed.

“Just lucky, I guess. I was going to heat up a Hot Pocket but got distracted.”

_I’ll get it. Do you want a mug for your coffee?_

“And let Nat’s thoughtful gift go to waste?” Clint asked, using his tongue to try and pull the crazy straw into his mouth. He failed, poking himself in the nose instead. He was fairly certain it was the least seductive thing he had ever done, but Bucky’s eyes seemed to linger on his mouth anyways. “She gets me a pack of crazy straws every year for my birthday.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and headed towards the tiny kitchenette, which consisted of a mini fridge, a microwave, and more coffee makers than one person probably needed. Pepper had once drunkenly told Natasha and Clint that she thought each apartment should have a full kitchen, but Tony wanted to encourage team interaction and bonding by only having one large kitchen on the communal floor. Clint wasn’t too fussed about it, since most of his food was either microwavable or take out, but he knew that Bruce was currently constructing a secret kitchen in his lab so that he could cook in peace. (He may or may not have blackmailed Bruce with this fact in order to get homemade curry once a week).

As Bucky grabbed the Hot Pockets from the freezer drawer, Clint wandered into his bedroom to retrieve his hearing aids from the bedside table. He hooked them over his ears and turned them on, hearing Bucky moving around the apartment and humming tunelessly. Clint glanced down at his chest, wondering if he should put a shirt on. Then he shrugged and walked back out to the living room.

Bucky slid the Hot Pocket onto a plate, using his left hand to avoid burning off his fingerprints. He motioned at Clint to sit on the couch.

Bucky wrinkled his nose as he handed the plate to Clint. “I feel like I’m contributing to your slow but inevitable death by hot cheese.”

“God, but what a way to go,” Clint replied, splitting the Hot Pocket in half and watching steam billow out from the center.  He waited for most of it to dissipate before taking a massive bite, grinning at Bucky with his mouth full.  Bucky snorted and settled onto the couch, his back against the arm so that he could shove his toes beneath Clint’s legs. Clint’s grin softened at the casual contact. They sat in silence as Clint wolfed down his breakfast.

“That was amazing,” Clint said as he swallowed the last bite. “Everything is so much better with cheese. I should have Tony make me an arrow that shoots scalding cheese over our enemies, so that they will be incapacitated but also have something delicious to eat on their way to jail.”

“Your mind is a terrifying place,” Bucky laughed. He took the plate from Clint and set it on the coffee table. Clint watched as Bucky leaned back, wrapping his arms around himself. He set his hand on Bucky’s knee and squeezed gently, causing the other man to turn and look at him.

“Thanks for making sure I didn’t just burn a hole through my stomach with coffee,” Clint said. The corners of Bucky’s lips twitched slightly upward, but fell short a full smile. Clint let his hand slide higher up Bucky’s thigh, thrilled that Bucky was this comfortable with him outside of a scene. “Is there anything you need while you’re here?”

“Just felt a little lost without something planned today. I was coming to see if you had any ideas, but you looked so damn cozy on the couch I didn’t want to make you move.”

“Do you need to do a scene?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not need... Want? I’ll let you watch Dog Cops though, I know how long you’ve been waiting to catch up.” He started to pull his feet out from beneath Clint, who pinched his thigh to stop him.

“What if we could do both?” Clint asked.

Bucky drew his brows together and cocked his head to the side.  “It won’t be too distracting for you?”

“We won’t be doing anything too exciting,” Clint conceded. “No impact play or anything. Just stay here for a second, yeah?” Clint bolted for his bedroom and returned a few minutes later with a two lengths of purple rope and a sharp knife.

“You’re literally going to tie me up and force me to watch Dog Cops, aren’t you?” Bucky groaned.

Clint smirked. “Well I was going to ask you to cuddle, but I wasn’t sure you were the snuggly type.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Bucky muttered. Clint’s stomach flipped as he watched Bucky’s cheeks flush red. “The rope sounds fun though.”

“Good,” Clint said. He set the knife down on the table, ready to use it in case Bucky needed to be quickly released. “Stand up.”

“Shirt on or off?” Bucky asked, rising to his feet.  

“Your choice.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching Clint’s face. Then he pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, letting it drop to the floor while staring into Clint’s eyes. Clint took a deep breath, indulging himself for just one second to appreciate the hard lines of Bucky’s abs, the sharp V that dove beneath the waist of his black sweatpants. Then he uncoiled the rope and pushed the coffee table away, clearing the floor in front of the couch.

“Arms straight out like this,” Clint instructed, holding his arms away from his body. Bucky did as he was told.

“Perfect,” Clint said. He began to weave a harness across Bucky’s chest, rope crossing between his pectorals to wrap around his ribs. Clint left a long length over Bucky’s shoulders to ensure he could properly bind his arms.

“Turn around, arms behind your back,” Clint said. Bucky rolled his shoulders and complied, bringing his wrists together near the small of his back. Clint’s eyes settled on the scar where Bucky’s metal arm met his left shoulder. He let his fingers lightly graze over the raised skin.

“May I?” He asked, noting how Bucky stiffened beneath his touch.

“Yes,” Bucky said shakily. Clint paused for a moment, wondering if he was going too far. Though they had been doing scenes for weeks, Bucky had never indicated he wanted anything beyond submission or occasional pain. Still, Clint felt emboldened by Bucky’s lingering glances, the ease at which they touched one another. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the joint of metal and flesh, eliciting a gasp from Bucky.

“Color?” Clint murmured, letting his lips drag across Bucky’s skin.

“Green,” Bucky sighed, the word coming out in one airy breath.  Clint hummed in approval and kissed along the scar.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as he pulled away. Then he began to bind Bucky’s arms with a series of intricate knots.

“Is that too tight?” Clint slid two fingers beneath the rope on Bucky’s right arm, making sure Bucky would still be able to get blood to his hand.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Good,” Clint said. “Face me.”

Bucky turned and met Clint’s eyes.

“I’m going to sit down now. You are going to kneel by my feet. You can choose to either stay up on your knees or to lean against me. Understood?”

Bucky nodded. Clint sat down and watched Bucky lower himself to his knees, careful to maintain his balance with his arms behind him. He shuffled awkwardly for a moment to face the TV, then settled back on his heels to rest his head on Clint’s thigh.

Clint wound his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You’ll tell me there’s any pain or numbness?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, the sound muffled as he turned his face into Clint’s leg. Clint grinned and reached for the remote.

“Good boy.”

They were halfway through their second episode when the blue light flashed again.

“Agent Barton, Captain Rogers is at your door,” Jarvis announced. “Shall I let him in?”

Clint looked down at Bucky. “Are you comfortable with that?”

Bucky paused for a moment before answering, “Yes.”

“Color?”

“Yellow. But I want... it’d be nice to share this with Steve.”

Clint’s brain nearly short circuited as thousands of images filled his mind. He had been taking care of Bucky and Steve separately for weeks-- obviously telling them about how he was helping each of them -- but hadn’t allowed himself to hope for a scene with both of them. He shook his head to clear the thought of how perfectly the flush of Steve’s skin under hot wax would match the redness of Bucky’s shoulders after being flogged.

“Sure, Jarvis, send him in.”

“Hey Clint,” Steve called as he closed the door behind him. “I was just coming to see if you wanted to spar.” He stopped abruptly when he saw Bucky kneeling by Clint’s feet, a blush flooding across his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I can uh.. I can come back later.”

“Stay,” Clint said. Steve held his hands up and began to retreat towards the door, staring resolutely at the ground.

“No really, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, raising his head off of Clint’s thigh. “Stay. Please?”

Steve’s head perked up at the p _lease_ ; everybody knew Steve would never deny Bucky anything. Steve’s eyes roamed over Bucky’s face, nodding after he saw something there that Clint could not recognize. Steve glanced back at the door one last time before squaring his shoulders and turning towards the TV.

“So, what are we watching?”

“Dog Cops,” Bucky said, his voice stifled as he buried his face back against Clint.

“Oh, is this the episode where Officer Bark collaborates with the FBI?”

“Gah, spoilers!” Clint exclaimed, clapping his hands over his ears. Then he turned to look at Steve, who was making his way over the couch. “There’s dogs in the FBI?”

Steve shook his head and settled next to Clint. “ _Feline_ Bureau of Investigation.”

“This show is a goddamn masterpiece,” Clint sighed happily. He held out an arm and motioned to Steve. “C’mere.”

Steve let Clint pull him down, then rearranged himself so that his legs were curled on the couch and his cheek resting on Clint’s chest.

Clint brought his lips down to Steve’s hair. “Color?”

“Green,” Steve whispered.  Clint pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Good.”

Clint kept his hands occupied for the rest of the episode, one tangled in Bucky’s hair to massage his scalp, the other rubbing along Steve’s arm. Bucky occasionally lifted his head to gaze at Steve, who would smile back down at him.

“How are your arms?” Clint asked Bucky as the next episode began. Bucky flexed his right bicep and rolled his wrist experimentally.

“They’re good,” Bucky replied. “There’s a little bit of tingling in my fingers, but it’s not too much.” He rubbed his cheek against Clint’s thigh. “I’d like to stay here a little longer.”

“Buck, I gotta ask -- are you here of your own free will, or did Clint kidnap you and force you to watch Dog Cops?” Steve smirked as his eyes shifted from Bucky to Clint.

“Hey!” Clint objected just as Bucky said, “Bit of column A, bit of column B.”

Clint huffed indignantly. “As I remember it, I was minding my own business when you barged in here and started questioning my eating habits.”

“I’m not sure drinking coffee from the pot even qualifies as an _eating_ habit, Clint,” Steve said.

“Fucking thank you!” Bucky shouted.

“So what did you get him to eat?”

“Hello, right here, I can tell you what I ate,” Clint said. The other two ignored him.

“Hot Pocket,” Bucky said. Steve stuck his tongue out in disgust.

“Do I come into your apartment and make sure you guys are eating?” Clint demanded.

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“You hid all my mission reports last week until I ate like three pounds of pancakes,” Steve added.

Clint shrugged and nodded in acquiescence. “Fair point, well made. Now shut up, I don’t want to miss Sergeant Paw’s meeting with the shady rat lawyer.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence. After one more episode, Clint gently pushed Steve off of him and slid onto the floor to untie the rope binding Bucky. Steve watched with interest as Clint unwound the harness, unable stop himself from running a finger along the braided impressions in Bucky’s skin.

“I’d love to draw you like this, Buck,” Steve whispered, and _God_ something about sincerity and reverence in his tone just went straight to Clint’s dick. Clint had never had a voyeur kink, but the thought of doing a scene with Bucky while Steve watched and drew them was definitely doing something for him.

Bucky glanced up at Steve, his eyebrows drawn together. Then he closed his eyes and moaned as Clint began to massage his shoulder and arm.

Clint pushed his thumb against a knot that had formed below the scar tissue on Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky exhaled sharply, stiffened beneath Clint’s touch, then began to relax as the knot worked itself out.

“Can I help?” Steve’s fingers hovered over the marks on Bucky’s back.

“It’s up to Bucky,” Clint replied.

“He can help,” Bucky said, his voice barely audible.

“Why don’t you work on his right hand? Just feel for any tightness or knots.”

Steve reached tentatively for Bucky’s hand, then began to press his fingers in small circles around Bucky’s palm. Clint watched them as he continued to rub Bucky’s shoulders and back. Steve furrowed his brow as he continues to massage Bucky’s hand, his fingers moving higher to work Bucky’s wrist and forearm. Bucky tilted his head towards the ceiling as Clint’s fingers pressed into the muscle at the base of his skull, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging slightly open.

Clint loved moments like this, loved watching the bliss on his subs’ faces as they came back to themselves. Clint enjoyed control, craved it even, but aftercare and the closeness that followed scenes was his favorite part of being a top. He loved seeing his partners’ bodies relax, melt into his. He love the radiating satisfaction, that he could stare at their tear-stained or reddened faces and think, _I did that_.

Soon Bucky was languid beneath their hands, his body softening as he leaned more and more into their touches.

“Budge over, Steve, we’re coming up on the couch,” Clint finally said.

Steve obliged, scooting over to make room for the other two men. Clint helped Bucky to his feet, then settled onto the middle of the couch. He put an arm around Steve, pulling him back against his chest. Bucky leaned his head against Clint’s shoulder.

It was the first time the three of them had done anything remotely like a scene together. Steve and Bucky were aware that Clint was involved with both of them, but Clint still couldn’t figure out how to bring both relationships together. Steve and Bucky had different needs and limits, but Clint was fairly certain he could come up with a scenario that would fit both of them.

It was starting to seem like maybe he wouldn’t have to bring it up at all. Bucky had wanted to share his scene with Steve, and Steve had participated in aftercare. Something had shifted over the past few days; Bucky had started to casually touch and joke with Clint, Steve would seek him out for sparring and meals. Clint had kept sex out of both relationships -- if they wanted something more than impact or sensory play, they would let him know -- but that didn’t stop him from reading into every interaction.

Clint couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he asked about adding sex to their scenes -- would they safeword out? Stop coming to him?

It wasn’t worth the risk, he decided, as he had a hundred times before.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve mumbled against Clint’s chest, his fingers resting gently on Clint’s waist.

“Just wondering if Special Agent Mittens is the double agent or if she’s being used as a red herring,” Clint said.

“Liar,” Bucky said, turning his head to kiss Clint’s shoulder. Clint shuddered as Bucky’s lips lingered on his skin. Steve’s thumb began tracing a pattern along Clint’s hip bone, then his thumb was dipping below the waistband of Clint’s sweatbands. Bucky’s mouth was against his neck, and _oh_ , maybe Clint wouldn't be taking such a risk after all --

Steve’s phone chose that exact moment to ring.

Steve scrambled to sit up, fumbling in his pocket to pull out his phone.  He held a hand up towards Clint, who got the message and paused the show.  “Rogers.”

Steve frowned after several seconds of silence. “Okay, where? Understood. See you in ten minutes.” He hung up the phone with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Hill’s got a lead on Rumlow. I’ve got a meeting with her and Fury. You two might want to be ready to suit up soon.”

Clint groaned, tilting his head against the back of the sofa. “Of course fuckface Rumlow decided to surface on the one perfect day we’ve had in weeks.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, then leaned down to kiss Clint’s cheek. “It was perfect,” he said quietly. He reached over to cup Bucky’s cheek, running his thumb over his bottom lip. Then he turned on his heel and strode to the elevator.

Buck sighed and pushed himself off the couch, pausing to grab his shirt off the floor before following Steve.

“Fuck Hydra,” Bucky mumbled as the elevator doors closed.

Clint closed his eyes, trying to recapture the sensation of Bucky’s stubble dragging across his neck or Steve’s hand inching below the waist of his pants.

He was going to fucking kill Rumlow.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bit of column A, bit of column B](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070165) by [impiarum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impiarum/pseuds/impiarum)




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